


The Career Aptitude Test

by dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9214697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap/pseuds/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap
Summary: Ron Weasley decides to take a career aptitude test.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. James Whale directed The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) was directed by James Whale and was distributed by Universal Pictures.

** The Career Aptitude Test **

He entered the library slowly, quietly closing the door behind him. He didn’t want to startle those that were in the library though he knew it was reaching curfew. Most had just finished dinner and were rushing off to their dormitories or in their common rooms, playing games of exploding snap.

 

Of course his girlfriend would be the only one in the library with books and pieces of parchment littered on her table. Ron tried to remember if they had always had this much work at the end of October, but essays and other menial assignments had vanished from his brain quite some time ago.

 

His blue eyes targeted the bushy haired girl who was holding a quill and tapping it on a piece of parchment repeatedly. Her brown eyes were glued to the words in front of her and she was mumbling under her breath.

 

“What are you doing?” he whispered, starling her.

 

She jumped at his voice and then at the touch of his calloused fingers gently caressing her neck, tangling her brown hair. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then pulled out the wooden chair next to hers, sitting down.

 

Hermione blushed. They were the only two people in the library but she still felt like she was being watched with all the magical books around her. She pushed his hand away from her thigh and gave him a pointed look. She didn’t want to be inappropriate in front of the books. Some of them did have eyes after all.

 

“This is a nice surprise,” she whispered, pulling away from him as he tried to steal a quick kiss from her lips. “And actually rather embarrassing. I’m taking a test.”

 

Ron’s blue eyes popped open wide with worry and his face paled. “A test? We have a test? Blimey. I didn’t know—“

 

Hermione rolled her eyes at the sarcasm that filled his voice and quickly shushed him. You weren’t supposed to actually talk in the library.

 

“No. _You_ don’t even go to school anymore,” Ron grinned at her statement.

 

Hermione had been the only one out of the three to decide she wanted to finish her education after the war. After a long summer, Hogwarts had been restored by volunteers and had promptly opened in September thanks to McGonagall who agreed to be Headmistress for the new year. Harry and Ron had decided to go straight into Auror training. They had been approached based solely on what they had done during the war. Ron had jumped at the chance even though training was much harder than schoolwork.

 

“So what are we studying?” he asked, biting her ear gently.

 

Hermione shivered and felt the blush creep back onto her cheeks. “ _We_ aren’t studying anything,” she murmured, trying to keep her composure. The last time Ron visited her she had been in an abandoned classroom practicing transfiguration. Hermione learned she wasn’t against snogging in a deserted classroom. “It’s a career aptitude test.” At Ron’s raised eyebrows, Hermione grinned. “It’s a muggle test,” she explained, “students take it to find out what their career should be.”

 

He wrinkled his nose and eyed the papers on the desk. “What? Like an Auror?”

 

Hermione nodded. “No, well, yes actually but muggle jobs. Like a teacher or an architect.”

 

Ron didn’t bother asking what an ar-chee-text was. It sounded like an odd and boring profession.

 

“But you’re a witch,” he said with confusion. He never understood Hermione’s obsession with muggles.

 

Granted she was a muggleborn but after all these years didn’t she realize, magic was just so much more convenient?

 

Who really needed to wash dishes themselves and get their hands wrinkly when they could just use a spell? He supposed muggle women just liked cleaning.

 

“I know Ron,” Hermione said with a huff. She mumbled something to herself that he didn’t quite catch. “I was just wondering what profession I would be suited for.”

 

Ron peered at the papers again with a disgusted expression on his face. There were just too many questions. They made his head throb.

 

“But you’re a—“

 

Hermione groaned. “I know.”

 

“And you can do magic.” He pointed to the wand she had on the desk, wondering if she sometimes forgot she was a witch (and a very capable one).

 

“I know,” she repeated, gritting her teeth.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“I see that.”

 

Realizing the conversation was going nowhere; Hermione pushed back her chair and grabbed her satchel that was on the desk. She mumbled something to herself as she shoved books and papers inside the bag.

 

Sensing that his girlfriend was angry (he guessed by the angry words and the flushed red face), Ron put his hand out and grabbed her wrist gently, stopping her aggressive movements of shoving papers in the bag.

 

“Hermione, wait.”

 

“Just forget it Ron. You probably shouldn’t be here anyway. I have to start my rounds and McGonagall said if she found you or Harry lurking around Hogwarts again instead of at home where you’re supposed to be she’ll—“

 

Ron quickly cut her off with an eye roll. “She acts like we didn’t help save the bloody world,” he grumbled.

 

McGonagall had specifically said if _Ron_ (not Harry) showed up at Hogwarts she would transfigure him into a package and send him back home. She was just sour with him because she said he was corrupting her Head Girl. It wasn’t Ron’s fault that he had the urge to snog Hermione in corridors or around giggling first years. It wasn’t his fault he had time on his hands between training and jetted off towards Hogwarts at night.

 

He helped save the damn Wizarding World. He would snog his girlfriend whenever he pleased.

 

“I should have a stern talk with her,” he said.

 

Hermione raised her eyebrow and then shook her head with amusement, the anger she had been feeling quickly vanished.

 

“Really?”

 

Ron nodded and then weakly shrugged, “ _Harry_ should have a stern talk with her.”

 

McGonagall might not have been his Professor anymore but she was still scary. He sometimes squeaked when he was around her and begged silently in his head for her to not take away any house points from him.

 

“Ron—“ Hermione’s voice was tight. She really didn’t want to get a detention again.

 

“She knows I’m here,” he said with a wave of his hand. He was shuffling her papers, quickly reading some of the questions with a chuckle. “Harry is here too. We’re off for a few days and she invited us to the Halloween feast. Now, explain to me why you want a muggle job?”

 

Hermione sighed. “Good night Ron.”

 

He didn’t move from his seat as she swiftly left the library. It was dark now. Whatever light had been in the library when he walked in was gone. He muttered a _lumos_ so he could read the papers she had left on the desk with a better eye.

 

_Do you enjoy working with your hands?_

 

Ron scoffed to himself. How else was he supposed to work? What else was he supposed to use? His feet? Silly muggles!

 

Ron chuckled as he grabbed a stray quill that Hermione had left and started to seriously scan the questions. If he thought the first one was silly the ones that came after were ridiculous.

 

_If the situation calls for it, I can be friendly even when I really dislike a person_.

 

He examined the answers he was supposed to choose from with a frown. They read:

 

_Completely true_

_Mostly true_

_Somewhat true_

_Mostly false_

_Completely false_

Well, if he didn’t include Malfoy or Krum or the moments when he caught Harry snogging his little sister than yes, it was _completely true_. He was really a friendly guy.

 

_I am a patient person_.

 

Of course he was! Ron laughed to himself. He was the most patient person in all of Hogwarts, no, in all of _England_. He ticked the box that said ‘completely true,’ thinking back to all the times he had to patiently listen to Hermione rattle on about SPEW.

 

His eyes flickered to the next statement.

 

_I offer helpful advice…_

 

“I’d be a rich man in the muggle world,” he mumbled to himself.

 

Everyone was always listening to him. Everyone was always coming to him with their problems. He was _so_ helpful. Neville was always rushing to him to hear advice on women.

 

Compliment Hannah but make sure you ignore her and get a girlfriend, someone that’ll make her jealous. That was his advice. It was solid. It was fool proof.

 

That was how he got Hermione after all.

 

_When I make a mistake, I admit it…_

 

Ron huffed. He _never_ made mistakes. There was that _one_ time when he was searching for Horcruxes with Harry and Hermione but that was old news. Harry was the one that was always making mistakes. When in doubt, blame Harry. That was his secret motto anyway.

 

He continued for another hour, going through question after question. His eyes felt strained and deciding he had had enough, he pushed the papers around and calculated his score according to the instructions. When he was done he sat back in his chair, squinting in the darkness at the occupation that was revealed for him.

 

-x-

 

The next day, for the first time in the history of Hogwarts, Ronald Weasley set off for the library to _willingly_ do some research.

 

He entered the library, hopping towards Madam Pince who was behind her desk and examining book after book. She looked up, her brown eyes irritably eyeing Ron who grinned at her.

 

“Madam Pince—“ he started but she quickly cut him off.

 

“No talking in the library.”

 

Ron groaned and then took a deep breath trying to control his temper. The shrill woman always got on his nerves. _No talking in the library_. How was he supposed to communicate with people then? Through hand signals?

 

“But I need help,” he whined, “I’m looking for a book.”

 

She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips together. “Well aren’t we all? I’m looking for a man as well. Can you direct me to one? No. No one ever tries to help me—“

 

He ignored her and hopped from foot to foot impatiently. He really needed to have a discussion with McGonagall. This school needed some fresh faces, some new blood. Madam Pince needed to go hole herself up in another library and meet a bloke that liked to do crosswords for fun.

 

“So this book you see, it’s about, ah, well it’s embarrassing.”

 

She watched his face and ears turn red and mumbled something to herself. “You’ve come to the wrong place then,” she snapped. “I think you’re looking for the hospital wing.”

 

Ron turned a darker shade of red and coughed nervously. “No. I…what?” He furrowed his brows with confusion trying to understand what she was alluding to. The hospital wing? He wasn’t sick or injured. “It’s about muggles,” he whispered.

 

Madam Pince shook her head. Her fingers caressed a book that was in front of her and she examined the cover with critical eyes. “Again,” she whispered back harshly, “the hospital wing. Whatever _disease_ you contracted in the muggle world I’m sure—“

 

Ron huffed, his temper taking over and he leaned forward, grabbing the book from her. “Merlin no! I mean…I’m trying to learn more about muggles and I need this book to learn about a profession,” he stumbled over his words and blinked, feeling awkward under her gaze. “It’s really respected in the muggle world,” he mumbled, “but I don’t know where to search.”

 

She sighed with defeat but snatched the book back from him. “Alright then, what is it?” she asked tersely.

 

Ron gulped and nervously explained his predicament.

 

And Madam Pince laughed, bruising his poor ego.

 

“There’s no laughing in the library,” he muttered hotly and then stomped away from the desk in anger.

 

-x-

 

After much extensive research (and glaring at Madam Pince), Ron found himself in the boys’ dormitory (after convincing Neville to allow him to use the space) surrounded by books.

 

A line of boys and girls of all ages were waiting impatiently to be called next by Ron who was currently trying to make Neville Longbottom stop fidgeting in his seat.

 

Hermione struggled up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory and eyed the line with curiosity. She was certain they were breaking some sort of school rule. She frowned when her brown eyes fell on Ron who was rubbing his hands on Neville’s head.

 

“Ron,” she questioned with curiosity, “what are you doing?”

 

Ron jumped and Neville cursed, smacking his hands to his ears. The scissors Ron was holding were sharp and dangerous, almost slicing poor Neville’s ear.

 

“Hermione!” he shouted, dropping his hands down and hiding the scissors behind his back.

 

She squinted her eyes at him and crossed her arms against her chest with annoyance. “What is going on here? What is this line?”

 

Ron shrugged innocently. “They’re my customers,” he mumbled.

 

Hermione groaned. It was always _something_ with Ron. Her eyes fell on the line of people. Some girls were crying and pulling at their hair that was crookedly chopped off while others tried to comb over patches of bald spots.

 

“For what?”

 

“Well,” he said, pursing his lips, “I wanted to show you I could have a muggle job too.”

 

Hermione didn’t know what to say. She was trying to connect the dots quickly in her head. Since when did Ron care about muggles and their professions? She watched as he shakily combed Neville’s dark blonde hair and snipped off some pieces of it with his scissors. A mirror was levitating in front of Neville so he could see the damage but his blue eyes were on Hermione and he kept mouthing ‘help me,’ to her.

 

“I’m scared Hermione,” mumbled Neville, still holding his ears.

 

Ron rolled his eyes. “Pipe down Neville, Hannah will love this,” he assured him, snipping off another piece of hair with a large pair of silver scissors.

 

“Ron, Ron,” Hermione choked out as she watched blonde hair after blonde hair fall to the floor, “what are you doing?” She _really_ didn’t understand.

 

“Don’t worry Hermione,” he said with a wave of his scissors (causing Neville to squeal with worry) “you’re next,” the line of people sighed with relief. “I’ve been practicing all day and I think I have the perfect look for you.”

 

He dropped his scissors and hands from Neville’s head and walked towards the books that were resting on Neville’s bed. He opened one and flipped through some pages, smiling when he came upon the picture he was looking for. He held the book up for Hermione to see. Some of the people on the line gasped, others giggled and one first year cried loudly with horror for Hermione.

 

Her eyes were glued to the picture he was holding up for her to see. A woman that was much older than she with a short-cropped hairstyle. There were no long locks of flowing hair but instead it looked like a bowl had been placed on her head and someone had just cut the hair that fell underneath the bowl.

 

“What the…what is that?”

 

Ron frowned. “It’s called the pixie,” he explained.

 

“I know what it’s called!”

 

“It’s for confident women,” he said, ignoring the anger and horror in Hermione’s voice. He figured if he complimented her it would soon go away and she would be more than happy for him making her frizzy bushy brown hair beautiful. “It’ll make you look smart,” he continued.

 

Neville scoffed. “Are you calling her dumb?”

 

Ron grimaced. “Shut-up.”

 

Hermione shook her head and finally everything clicked. “You took my career aptitude test,” she said slowly. She could not believe her boyfriend was trying to be a hairdresser.

 

Ron nodded and patted Neville on the shoulder. “Get out of the chair, Neville,” he commanded.

 

Neville grinned and jumped out of the chair. “Am I even done?” he asked, examining the crooked hairstyle on his head. All Ron had done was cut his hair on the right side and ignored the hair on the left. “You haven’t chopped off my ear?” he said with astonishment. “Marvelous. Poor Seamus though. He loses his eyebrows all the time and now—“

 

Ron turned red. “I thought we weren’t going to speak of that again!” He shouted angrily. Hermione found herself examining his orange t-shirt and noted he had stains of blood on it. “He’s just joking,” he said, turning his attention to Hermione who looked paler than usual. “Come sit in the chair.”

 

“I…”

 

She didn’t take a step towards the chair. She was glued to her spot and Ron pouted. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked quietly.

 

Hermione wanted to say no.

 

“Do you know what you’re doing?” she questioned, taking two small steps towards him.

 

Ron wanted to say no. Instead he smiled brightly as Hermione slowly walked towards him and then plopped down on the chair. Ron brushed her hair back and levitated his mirror so he could make sure her hair was proportioned correctly.

 

“Let’s dress your hair,” he whispered.

 

Neville watched Hermione with pity. She looked just as scared as he had moments ago. Her eyes were glued shut and she was squeezing the arms of the chair as Ron’s fingers tugged her long locks of curly brown hair.

 

“Bloody hell,” Neville whispered to himself, “this cannot end well.” The line of people all murmured in agreement.

 

“Shut-up Neville,” Ron said darkly, “oh _dear_ —“ His hands dropped from Hermione’s hair and he gulped, bunching up her cut hair in his hands.

 

Hermione jumped in her seat and bit her lip, not wanting to open her eyes and see the wreck that was on her head. “What, what is it?” she asked nervously.

 

“N-nothing,” stuttered Ron. “I’m going for more of an abstract look than the picture…it’s _different_. I am an artist when it comes to hair. You look gorgeous,” he patted her head gently and let the locks that he had cut off fall to the floor around him. “You look loads better.”

 

Hermione bit her lip until she could taste blood and then finally snapped. “Stop cutting my hair!” she howled. Tears were threatening to fall from her eyes.

 

Ron jumped and smacked her hands away from her hair. “Just trust me Hermione—“

 

“Don’t trust him Hermione!” shouted Neville with worry. The line of other students mumbled in agreement.

 

“Shut-up Neville! It looks fine,” he assured her. “Perfect. You look…you look,” he tried to find the right word as he eyed his masterpiece with repulsion, “beautiful. I just need to brush it.”

 

Hermione cursed in her head as Ron brushed her hair roughly. She opened her eyes once he stopped and looked at herself in the mirror, a horrified expression appearing on her face quickly. Her long curly hair was gone and instead her hair was raised straight up on her head as if lightning had shocked it. She reminded herself of the bride of Frankenstein in a film she had seen when she was little.

 

“So, what do you think?” Ron asked nervously.

 

The room was silent. Neville, Ron and the line of students were all peering at her waiting for Hermione’s reaction. She didn’t want to hurt Ron. She told herself he was _trying_ to learn more about muggle life and he had always been unconventional, that’s why she loved him.

 

She smiled weakly into the mirror and then at Ron. “It’s different.”

 

Ron grinned and blushed happily while Neville gloomily folded his arms against his chest and eyed the two with disgust and disappointment.

 

“Merlin,” he whispered, “the things you have to do for love.”


End file.
